


Into the Abyss

by Glory1863



Category: S.O.S. Titanic (TV 1979), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, RMS Titanic, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glory1863/pseuds/Glory1863
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 2:20 a.m. on April 15, 1912, <i>RMS Titanic</i> slides below the waves leaving a battered violin afloat in the debris field.  The violinist is nowhere to be found.  And yet, hasn't he been this way before?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching the DVD of the made-for-TV movie _S.O.S. Titanic_ the other night. It featured a bit about the orchestra on the _Titanic_ , and as the end credits scrolled by, there was a battered violin floating in the water. Sherlock's violin has more of a story to tell. Prequel to my _The Triumph of Sentiment_.

It’s April, 1912, on a cold, clear night in the North Atlantic and the luxurious new liner is at dead stop, listing to starboard and down by the head.  Passengers in lifebelts are milling around on deck, called there as a precaution they’re told.  The elderly violinist knows it’s not true.  By his calculations, the ship will likely sink within 3 hours and there are nowhere near enough lifeboats.  Once the more simple-minded realize this, the resultant panic will only worsen the disaster.  He begins to play a lively tune to divert them.

“That’s the ticket, Pops,” the young pianist joins in.  Originally, it was Colored music written in bawdy houses in the South in America, but over the years ragtime has gained a measure of respectability along with its popularity.  The orchestra plays on, song after song, as the lifeboats are loaded and lowered, some not even half full, and the list increases.

When the lifeboats have all gone and the passengers and crew who remain are as doomed as the ship, the violinist gives thought to playing a different sort of tune.  He’s not a Believer and never has been.  In addition to being a musician, he has always been a man of science, but his best friend of years ago, a sentimental retired Army doctor who’d nearly died in Afghanistan in one of the dirty little wars in the middle of the late Queen’s reign, would expect a hymn about now and would find comfort in it.  The violinist plays the opening measures of _Nearer, My God, To Thee_ and draws his comfort from his memories.  Good old Watson, the one fixed point in a changing age.

The pitch of the deck is such that the piano breaks away and cannot be retrieved.  The musicians can no longer maintain their balance and slide after the piano toward a maelstrom of frigid water.  The young pianist clutches the elderly violinist’s arm as they tumble toward eternity.

“Mr. Sigerson, sir, are you afraid?”

The old man remembers another time, another place and a misstep on water-slicked rocks that sent him over the edge and into the thunderous deluge of the Reichenbach Falls.  It had been both the death of his former self, the detective Sherlock Holmes, and the birth of the new, Sigerson the violinist.

All in all, he’s had a long life and a full one.  He’s enjoyed his work, has brought down Moriarty and most, but not all, of his cartel.  That was the reason he was sailing to New York.  Not many friends, true, but, ah, those he’s had!  Mrs. Hudson, his landlady; Inspector Lestrade, the best of the Yarders; Tommy Wiggins, chief of the Baker Street Irregulars; and Dr. John Watson.  Always John Watson!  His only regret is that he’s never had the chance to raise bees, but that’s nothing compared to this last great mystery. 

When he answers, it’s with serenity, “No, Ted, I’ve been this way before.”

At 2:20 a.m. on April 15, _RMS Titanic_ slides below the waves leaving a battered violin afloat in the debris field.  The violinist is nowhere to be found.


End file.
